


Build Up

by ThePathLessTrekked



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePathLessTrekked/pseuds/ThePathLessTrekked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually Jim can avoid conversations about that hellish time in his life. Today is not one of those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Up

James Tiberius Kirk had a damned good reason to be really fucked up. This wasn’t just about the high death rate birth, the abusive stepfather, or the galaxy sized shadow of his biological father that he lived in. All of those were good enough reasons as is for him to have some issues. But none of them came anywhere close to Tarsus, none of them wrecked him like the year he turned 13. 

 

It wasn’t something he shared and it was an easy enough topic to avoid mostly. All the files on individuals were sealed, no one  _liked_  to talk about one of the darkest events in Starfleet history so it wasn’t as if it got brought up, and Jim certainly never mentioned it. He was always excused from the days it was taught in classes. A permission slip warning parents of the graphic images always had a very firmly checked “no” from Winona’s steady hand. When urged by teachers to let Jim see the lesson (it really is important to know about, even though its disturbing), she responded with a swift no and would allow no other questions. 

At the academy Pike managed to give Kirk a heads up about lesson plans that might involve discussion about Tarsus, having his own way of getting the information out of the instructors. Jim always got rip-roaringly drunk the night before, managing to miss the lecture. Not even Bones noticed that the hangover wasn’t quite as bad as it should have been the next morning. It was none of anyone’s business why he wouldn’t go to class that day, it’s easier to give them an excuse they could see. 

Despite all of this, there was only so much Jim could do to avoid the subject. He couldn’t be protected from everything. Mostly it was easy enough to brush off by changing the subject, or finding an excuse to leave. This wasn’t the case in a Starfleet Supply Management class his first year. 

 

It started out as an innocent enough lecture on how to gage the amount of supplies needed per month on a colony of x size. Someone asked about taking crop supply into account. The instructor thought it would be prudent to discuss the dangers of relying too heavily on crops on a newly colonized planet, where crops might fail. Ie: Tarsus IV. 

The class did what most classes do when faced with a dark subject, tried to face it head on for a better understanding, despite the discomfort it caused. For Jim it meant an hour and a half of rising anxiety. Each time someone would mention the colony his chest would constrict. Each time someone asked what the people there faced his heart would race. Each time someone would mention the horrific factor of Kodos’ extreme solution he would hold his breath. Each time someone mentioned that horrific night when people began to realize just how bad it was, the night the riots started, the night Jim found himself alone on a planet that was supposed to be safe for him, a planet he couldn’t get into trouble on, a planet he could be free on, a planet-

Finally the class was dismissed. Jim managed to pry his white knuckled grip from his stylus and shove his PADD into the shoulder bag he carried. He got out the door and stiffly walked to the bathroom. Once in a stall he dropped the bag on the ground and placed both palms flat against the separating wall. He pressed his forehead to the cool metal and took several shallow breaths. Colors and nauseating smells flashed in front of him, trying to pull him under and suffocate him. His knees began to buckle and just before he was about to let the air be pulled from his lungs as his chest tightened down harder and harder, he heard the sharp click of another cadet’s shoes on the tiled floor. 

He drew in a sharp breath and curled the fingers of his left hand in tight. He let his blunt nails dig into the tender flesh at the heel of his palm. Slowly he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. He took three seconds to stare at the stall’s wall before bending down to pick up his back and hang it over his right shoulder. He left the bathroom at a brisk walk and made it to his next class in time. He sat straight and kept the tip of his stylus pressed to the desk to steady his shaking hand. His fingers still digging into his left palm. 

The rest of the day was a drag of hours. Each word too loud in his ears and each brush of another person placing energy under his skin that he couldn’t expel, making it too tight, too fragile. Finally the day came to a close and he was able to go back to the two bed closet space he called a dorm. He sat heavily on the bed, turned toward the wall, tucking his left arm under his head and his right hand between his knees. With each surge of anxiety he dug a little more at the red and irritated skin of his left hand. 

 

He had drifted into a semi-conscious state by the time Leonard got home. It was dark outside and the doctor ordered the computer to set the lights at 60%. Jim vaguely registered the light change but did not move, his body was exhausted and his mind hazy. He could hear Bones ask him what the hell he was doing laying on the bed in the dark with his uniform still on. Was he drunk? He still had to change into sleep clothes even if he was drunk, sleeping in his uniform wasn’t good for him. He listened to the annoyed timber of his roommate’s voice, unable to pry his dry lips apart, too tired to command his body to move. 

When Bones touched him it was like someone had placed a cattle prod to his spine. He yelled out and pulled away so violently he slammed his shoulder against the wall. He shoved his back into the corner and drew his knees to his chest, his arms flew over his head and his hands scrambled for purchase on the back of his neck.

The air around him pinned him to the wall and somewhere in the haze of of panic Bones swore. There was a moment of silence. Then two. Slowly Jim pulled his shoulders down, not moving his arms, not relinquishing the space between his legs and chest that his breath had warmed. His hands still gripped at the short hair near the base of his skull, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his neck. 

“Jim.” 

He tensed. 

“Jim, it’s okay. I’m not going to touch you again.” The voice was low and soft. Not a whisper, but quiet enough to not sound like an alarm to Jim’s ears. “I’m not going to touch you,” it assured again. 

Jim gave a jerky nod but made no further movement. 

“Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Another nod, followed by rapid breathing. 

“Shh, Darlin’ it’s okay, steady breaths. Shallow and steady that’s all you have to do. Just focus on that.” 

Jim took one deep shuddering breath before listening to the instructions. Slow and shallow, slow and shallow.

“I’m going to sit next to you. Is that okay?”  He swallowed hard and nodded again. The bed shifted next to him, he flinched away from the body heat he could feel at his side. After a few moments it became familiar and he allowed his shoulders to lose some of the tension the sensation had brought on. 

“Can I touch you, Jim?” He tensed again and quickly shook his head. Please no, no god no please don’t. 

“Okay, okay I won’t. I won’t. And I’ll always ask before I do. I won’t touch you until you say it’s okay.” Len let it fall silent again. After some time had passed, Jim wasn’t sure how long, but long enough that his arms started to feel stiff and he was pretty sure his knees wouldn’t straighten out willingly, Len asked again. This time Jim nodded, it was slow and not quite fluid, but it was a nod. 

He only flinched a little when a wide hand carefully settled between his shoulder blades. It didn’t rub or pat, it just rested there, palm warm and comforting. Jim swallowed and slowly began to unfold himself. He took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. 

“Thanks.” his voice was horse from hyperventilating, it hurt to talk. 

“No problem darlin’.” Bones stroked across the base of Jim’s neck softly, making no sudden movements and letting Jim unwind on his own time. 

“Those happen often?” It was a doctor’s question and they both knew it. The younger man shook his head. 

“Do you know what triggers them?” This time he nodded.  “Mind if I ask what?” 

“I was on Tarsus.” He isn’t sure why he said it this time when he had refused to mention it so many times before, but it felt safe with Bones. He didn’t open his eyes, so he didn’t see the absolutely horrified look on the doctor’s face, but he heard the soft swear that fell from his lips. The way that his friend pressed a closer to him instead of pulling his hand away let him know that Len was scared for Jim, not scared of what Jim had been through. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” 

“That’s fine, Kid. On your own time.” It wasn’t the “thank god” he had gotten before, or the “you really shouldn’t bottle it up” he’d heard so many times. It was an honest answer. Leonard would be there for him when he wanted to talk about it, and it was okay that he didn’t want to talk about it now. Jim took another deep breath and leaned into the man beside him. He tilted his head up and pressed his forehead against the side of Len’s neck. 

“Thanks, Bones.” 

“Of course, Jim. That’s what I’m here for.”

 


End file.
